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by asocialconstruct



Series: Basic [12]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, OT3, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-war, set after Someone Else's Problems, Small Favors and After.  Probably won't make sense unless you've read most of Basic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

“You okay?” Cain asked as they drove back from the airport.  Two duffel bags in the back seat and a trunk being shipped after him the only things making this any different from a visit.

Deimos gave him a look sideways, still too exhausted from the funeral to really think about it.  The house would probably sell, but what he would do after that, why he’d let Cain and Abel talk him into moving here where he had nothing, he still didn’t know.  _You got more family with us than you do here_ , Cain had growled at the funeral, arm around Deimos’ shoulders as Abel started making phone calls.  They all knew the only family Deimos had anywhere after his father had passed was Cain—Nine—Sacha, and barely that since Abel.

“Where’s Abel and the baby?” Deimos asked, holding his breath as Cain reached to put an arm across the back of his seat.

“Playdate with Keeler,” Cain sneered, even if there wasn’t as much acid in it as there might have been a few years ago.  “Thought you might want some quiet when we got home.”

 _Home_.  Cain’s home, Abel’s home, not Deimos’.  He looked out the window, ignoring the way Cain’s hand wandered down to brush fingers in his hair.  Deimos just concentrated on the drizzle tracking across the window until they were _home_ , and he followed Cain into their warm little nest, each of them carrying half of Deimos’ life, or the parts that mattered.  His father’s ashes, a sweater of his neither Deimos nor Aleks would ever, ever grow to fill, and the last ragged little sweater he’d made for Natasha, bobbled flowers more ragged the worse his pain became, determined to finish it.

Deimos sat heavily at their neat little table.  Cain put a beer down in front of him without asking, even though it was morning.  Or late evening for Deimos, still twisted around with the timezone change even with the cool gray light filtering through the curtains.  He watched Cain move around the apartment, drinking his own beer and heating soup, nudging toys out of the way as he walked by.

It was comfortable enough like that, like when Deimos visited and they fell into bed together after dinner to fuck Abel together, warm and greedy and pliant as he always had been, making it good enough that Deimos barely wondered how long it had been since he’d had the chance to just fuck Cain—not since he’d been Sacha.

But there was something else to it now, with Deimos not really just visiting anymore, and Cain looked uneasy with it, moving carefully around him until they couldn’t avoid it any more.  Cain brought him a bowl of soup, set it in front of him and retreated.  

Nothing like Cain, but maybe a little like Sacha.

“You remember that night in basic?” Cain asked finally, slouching in his chair and not looking up.  Deimos watched him, waiting for something else.  There were a lot of nights in basic, and not very many of them good.  “When you showed up with—when you pulled that knife out after—“ Cain cleared his throat.  “Thought you were there to finish—thought you were with Six and Two.  Couldn’t figure out why else you’d be there.”

Deimos took a sip of his beer.  In a way he had been there to finish it, just not the way broken sixteen year old Sacha had thought, and not the way Deimos had thought at the time.  

But Cain wouldn’t want to hear that, or why things had changed.  Sacha had never thought he’d need someone to protect him so badly; Aleks had never thought he’d need so badly to protect someone.  Abel was never supposed to be a part of it, even if Deimos admitted Abel did a better job of protecting Cain than he’d ever done, even if Deimos admitted that Abel had managed to do the one thing for Sacha he’d never managed.

Eight had made him weak, Two and Six had made him vicious, Deimos had made him strong.

Abel had made him happy.

Cain shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to look like he wasn’t fidgeting, all his bad habits from basic coming back just thinking about it.  “I, uh, I think about that a lot,” he said, quiet.  “Never knew why you gave a shit.”

He wasn’t so raw around the edges anymore, not like he had been in the service, and certainly not like in basic, and it suddenly struck Deimos that he wasn’t the only person who knew those jagged pieces of Sacha anymore, and Deimos wondered if he should be jealous that Abel had finally found the one part of Cain which Deimos had always thought would be his.

He should have been, but he couldn’t be, not with Sacha glancing across the table at him like he was Eight sitting there and not just Aleks, Sacha always so needy and looking for approval even if he’d rather die than admit it.

So Deimos shrugged.  “You needed someone,” he whispered, even though that wasn’t the real reason.  “And you were pretty,” he added, which was closer to the truth, and Cain snorted a laugh.

Cain set his empty beer down then, circling around behind Deimos’ chair before he realized it, expecting Cain to go for another beer and more awkwardness.  He froze with Cain’s hands on his shoulders, wondering if Sacha had finally figured him out, why he’d really stepped in to pick up all the little jagged pieces Two and Six and Eight had broken him into, but Cain leaned down to mouth the veins of his neck instead, warm and aggressive and needy.

“You never said if you were going to stay, myshonok,” Cain murmured, or maybe that was Sacha.

“What about Abel?”

“You know he knows,” Cain said, mouth warm where he bit Deimos’ ear.  “So do you want to or not?” he asked.  His hands wandered lower, lazily stroking Deimos hard through his jeans.  “You can stay here, fuck both of us.  Abel gets off on it, talking about you fucking him, how we used to be.  Surprised he never told you about it, it was his idea in the first place.”

Deimos swallowed hard.  “What do you want?” he whispered, half afraid of the answer.

Cain brushed his mouth against the back of Deimos’ ear, fingers threaded through his hair to keep him from moving.  “You.  And him.  Wanna be a selfish prick and have both of you every night, so I can fuck you both when I feel like, like we used to do.  Want you to eat your goddamn soup so we can go fuck already.”

Deimos pushed the bowl away, tipping his head back to be kissed, desperate for it now that it was real.  Cain snorted and bent to kiss him upside down, catching his lip and tugging, pulling a little moan out of him as Cain dragged the chair backwards with Deimos in it.

His neck ached with it as Cain cupped his face and kept him tipped back, dizzy with the vertigo of trusting Cain wouldn’t let him drop backwards, desperate for this to be real.  He hissed at the sharp bite Cain gave his lip before jerking him to his feet, shoving him towards the bedroom, both of them clumsy and eager like they’d never been when they were young enough for it to make sense.

Cain shoved him down on the bed—Abel’s bed—their bed—yanking Deimos’ clothes off him like he’d been waiting years for it.  The last time it had been just them, Sacha had been clumsy and vicious, hiding his neediness behind aggressive macho posturing, trying to prove to himself that he’d never be fucked by anyone again, which was mostly believable until he’d curled against Aleks’ back after, clinging and needy.

Deimos pulled him down to the bed, breathing him in deep, arching his back into it when Cain twisted a hand in his hair and bit his shoulder, shuddering with Cain over him warm and heavy, cock hard and pressed to the crease of his thigh, pinning him to the bed.  

They kissed, and it was the first time since—Deimos couldn’t remember the last time they’d kissed.  He could remember every single time he’d fucked Cain, or Sacha, but couldn’t remember kissing him, Sacha too angry and Cain too disdainful, not even the times Sacha had begged Aleks to fuck him and then hated him for it after, until he went back to Eight for it because Aleks had never been rough enough for him.  

Cain slicked his hand with lube, jerking them together, propping himself up far enough to watch Deimos’ face beneath him and Deimos put a hand in his hair to bring him back, pushing him a little, this new Cain who was a little like Sacha, and wondered how much Abel was responsible for.

All of it, probably, none of Sacha’s resentment when Cain finally sat back and eased Deimos’ cock into him, biting his lip with just the tip in him, and Aleks curled his toes against the bed, wanting to fuck Sacha and all his jagged broken edges hard and rough the way he used to.  Cain took deep breaths, easing down onto Deimos’ cock slow, so slow, like he didn’t let Abel do this, like he’d been saving it for Deimos, hot and tight and his cock throbbing lazily as Deimos put his hands on Cain’s ass, risking it to pull him wider and push up into him.

Cain growled and snapped at his ear, leaning down with Deimos finally all the way in him and pulsing hard as he felt Cain flex and tighten around him as he moved.  And then it was Deimos’ turn to hiss and wince, Cain jerking his head back by the hair to bite his neck, suddenly fucking him fast and hard with his burning mouth pressed to Deimos’ neck, and as unclear as it had ever been who was fucking who as Deimos scrabbled to keep one hand on Cain’s tight perfect ass and find the hot tip of his cock with the other, brushing against their bellies as Cain rolled his hips over him.

Deimos jerked him rough, pulling Cain’s foreskin up over the tip of his cock, digging his fingers into the hard muscle of his ass as Cain pushed them faster, callused hands hard on Deimos’ shoulders, keeping him pinned to the mattress even if he had his knees up to fuck Cain deeper.

Cain came with a curse and a deep, open mouthed bite on Deimos’ shoulder, shuddering as he rocked through it, thighs gone stiff and shaky as Deimos kissed his shoulder and ear, anything he could reach, stroking Cain’s back.  Sacha shuddered, curled over him taking unsteady breaths as Aleks finished in long, smooth strokes, scattering little warm kisses across Cain’s shoulder as he came, holding him close for as long as Sacha would let him.

Which was never long enough, Cain shoving him away too soon to arrange them on their sides, wrapping himself against Deimos’ back, engulfing him with his possessiveness, which was sometimes a little like love, or at least close enough that it didn’t matter.

Or maybe it did, Deimos snapping back from where he’d drifted off between the warm sheets and Cain’s hard arms, the sound of the front door closing loud in the quiet apartment.

“Cain?” Abel called, padding back to the bedroom, Cain shifting a little to look at the door as he came in.  “Deimos?  How was your flight—oh.”

“Where’s the little princess, princess?” Cain asked sleepily as Abel sat to take off his shoes.

“I asked Keeler and Encke to take her over night,” he said with a smile, leaning over Cain to kiss Deimos, warm and sweet and everything Deimos had ever wanted for Sacha.


End file.
